


Sharing the Same Sun

by waroftheposes



Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Pining, Tumblr Prompt, so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 06:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20925971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waroftheposes/pseuds/waroftheposes
Summary: Omar leaving for a week long family vacation may just be the worst thing that has ever happened to Ander, and no no, he's not being dramatic. This is definitely theworst thingthat's ever happened to him.





	Sharing the Same Sun

**Author's Note:**

> The Tumblr Prompt: _I was wondering if you're still writing fics? and if you are could you write one about omar and ander in the future maybe after they're married? and one of them comes back from a long trip or smth so a really romantic reunion? just fluff :) _  
\--
> 
> still in a MIKA mood so title is from _ Staring at the Sun _

_The night before Omar is due to leave for a week long trip, Ander is lying down on their bed, holding him hostage. _

“_Ander you have to let me go so I can pack.”_

_Ander doesn’t budge. In fact, he tightens his grip around Omar’s waist. “No, I’m good.”_

“_Ander…” Omar sighs. He tries to use his own hands to loosen up Ander’s hold on him, but he’s not as strong as Ander, and after a moment, he gives up. _

“_I don’t like this,” Ander continues. He looks at Omar’s face as Omar goes limp in his arms, and at the annoyed look there, he sighs, finally releasing his hold. _

_Omar leaves his embrace slowly. Sitting up on the bed first, before stretching his arms and standing up. He bends down to kiss Ander’s cheek quickly, a brush of his lips against Ander’s skin, before walking toward the closet and taking out clothes at random. He throws the ones he deems worthy on the bed, next to Ander._

“_So you’ve said,” Omar says, as he takes a jacked out of the closet, regards it, and then places it in the closet again. “You’ve said it like, ten times at least. And it’s not like I’m very keen on going.”_

_Ander huffs in agreement. _He _might not be happy that Omar is leaving without him, but Omar’s even less happy about it. When they first discussed the trip, Omar had seemed put off by the fact that he’d have to travel without Ander. But as the day of his departure approaches, Omar has been in an increasingly worse mood. He’s put off packing until the night before his flight, because every time he’d opened his suitcase before, he’d become glum, sitting on the bed and glaring at its general direction. _

“_What are you gonna do with your ring?” Ander asks after a while. He’d been quiet, watching Omar pick out clothes. But now, Omar has finished picking his travel clothes and has moved on to folding them. Ander thought about helping for a moment, but then his eyes caught Omar’s wedding ring and his mind began to wander again. _

“_Keep it on,” Omar responds. “What else would I do with it?”_

“_Take it off?” Ander answers. He doesn’t understand how Omar can justify a wedding ring without a spouse, and tells Omar this. “What are you gonna say when your grandmother asks about it?”_

“_That I’m married.” _

“_And when she asks to see your wife?”_

_Omar shrugs. “I’ll tell her I don’t have one.” He stops folding clothes for just a moment, and asks Ander if he can help him out. Ander sits up and begins folding some of Omar’s shirts. _

“_You’ll tell her you don’t have one?” he asks as he’s stacking shirts on top of each other. “She’s not gonna buy that.”_

“_She will,” Omar answers. “She’s eighty. Hey, don’t roll your eyes at me, she’s too old to be suspicious.”_

_With Ander’s help, the packing goes much faster. Soon, all of Omar’s travel necessities are resting in his suitcase, and Omar can rejoin Ander on the bed._

“_Ok your grandmother will be too old to be suspicious,” Ander says once Omar is laying down. “But what about your uncle? Your aunts? Your cousins?”_

“_I’ll let them figure it out.” _

“_Omar!”_

“_What? I’m not gonna lie.”_

_Which… ok. So he doesn’t want to lie to his family about Ander, but still Ander’s presence is absolutely not possible? “You’ll tell them you’re married, but you won’t take me with you…?”_

_Omar sighs. “My mom and dad think it’s safer for both of us if you don’t come.”_

_The horrible thing, Ander thinks as he’s falling asleep that night, is that he agrees with Omar’s parents. It really would be safer for everyone involved if Ander didn’t go to the Shanaa family reunion. _

\--

When Omar had come to Ander several months ago, telling him about the family reunion, Ander’s first reaction had been terror. The first words out of his mouth at that time were “Is it safe to travel to Palestine?”

Omar had answered him patiently, though his eyes did flicker upward for a moment before he spoke. “The reunion is gonna be in Turkey. I have an uncle who lives in Kayseri, we’re all going to visit him.”

_We all_ really meant Omar, his parents, and Nadia. No significant others for the kids. Only the two of them and their parents.

This fact had taken some time to get used to, for Ander specifically. He had hated that he wouldn’t see Omar for a week, had hated the idea of being separated from him so much, that his own mother had to sit down with him and remind him that this was fine, normal even. People traveled without their significant others _all the time_, and Ander could handle one goddamn week.

He’d been convinced that Omar traveling alone was not in fact a disaster, just a minor inconvenience. With his mother’s pep talk, he’d managed to be a complete adult about the whole thing, to even wish happy travels to Omar’s parents, to give Omar a reasonably timed hug at the airport.

He’d held it together until Omar had left, and then he proceeded to be useless for the majority of the week. His mother called it moping, Ander called it coping. He’d spent the days watching the clock, wondering when Omar would have a free moment to call, trying to forget the days left until Omar would return.

Omar had left for Turkey a week ago. It’s been a week of pure torture for Ander, but today Omar will be back.

His exact arrival time is 9:35 PM, because the world is cruel and wants Ander to suffer. Ander had complained about Omar’s arrival date to his mother last night, in his most petulant and childish voice, when she’d come over to his apartment to help him clean.

She’d laughed at him, “Maybe the world is trying to teach you patience.”

“Trying to drive me crazy more like.”

Ander has been absolutely useless today, more so than the rest of the week. He hasn’t been able to focus on his work, his mind constantly wandering off to where Omar is in his travels. It takes about eight hours to get from Kayseri to their town, but there’s a stop in Istanbul. At noon, when Ander went home for lunch and checked his phone, the realization that Omar was on his way home hit him with the kind of force that made him have to sit down. Ander couldn’t really go back to work after that.

He was feeling too jittery, so he called in sick. He spent the rest of the day doing random things: folding laundry, rearranging the furniture, checking the time every five to ten minutes.

He starts driving to the airport almost two hours before Omar’s plane is scheduled to land. He can’t take waiting alone at home anymore. It’s like the closer he gets to Omar’s arrival, the less patient Ander is becoming. Pacing in his apartment is unbearable when Omar is so close to being _home._

He gets to the airport at eight, parks, and finds the terminal for Turkish Airlines. Ander knows that when Omar returns, he won’t be alone. His parents and Nadia are traveling on the same flight, and they’ll be coming out of the plane together. At some point Guzman will be here too, to pick up Nadia and take her home. Ander is not sure why Guzman didn’t just go to Turkey with Nadia. There’s no danger at all of him being there. Maybe Omar made a fuss about Guzman going, if Ander couldn’t go. Maybe Omar’s parents didn’t want the rest of their family to know that Nadia had married a Christian.

_Whatever_, Ander thinks as he finds a seat. He checks his watch. There’s still an hour and a half left until the plane is scheduled to land. Ander decides to mess around on his phone, though it does nothing to help the time pass.

He hasn’t seen Omar in too long, hasn’t been separated from him for this long since before they were officially together. It’s been unbelievably difficult, in a way that Ander had not anticipated. When you’re used to living with a person, seeing them every day and sleeping next to them every night, their absence can be debilitating.

Ander closes his eyes, leaning back against the stupid airport chair. _One more hour._

\--

“_How are you?” Omar’s face is way too pixelated on the phone screen for Ander’s liking and his voice breaks twice during that one question._

_Ander runs a hand over his face. “I can’t sleep.”_

“_Why?” Omar’s brows have furrowed in concern, and Ander does not like that. “Are you having nightmares? Is it stress?” He asks, because he still remembers that horrible time when Ander was keeping secrets to himself and destroying both his own body and his mental state._

“_No,” Ander responds, glum. “It’s because I’m alone. I haven’t slept alone in a bed in actual years. It sucks.”_

_Omar’s brows slowly unfurl and a sideways smile grows on his face. “You miss me already?”_

“_I missed you as soon as you stepped past the security line,” Ander answers immediately. “This is ridiculous, why do you even need to see your family?”_

_Omar’s smile only grows. He shrugs._

“_Come back…”_

“_Five more days,” Omar says. “Get some sleep in the meantime.”_

_Ander shakes his head. “Impossible. Absolutely not going to happen.”_

_Omar opens his mouth to respond, but there’s the sound of the door opening on his end and his eyes catch on the intruder. _

“_I’m on the phone,” he says in Spanish, which is good, it means that whoever has just barged in is in his immediate family._

“_Grandma is asking about you.” It’s Omar’s mom. “What are you doing on the phone _right now_?”_

“_Can’t grandma wait like, five minutes? She saw me literally ten minutes ago,” Omar sighs, still looking off screen. “She has other grandkids to interrogate!”_

“_You haven’t seen grandma in years. Can’t whoever you’re on the phone with _wait?_” There's the sound of the door closing and a moment later, Omar’s mom is sitting next to him, looking at Omar’s phone screen._

“_He really can’t,” Omar says to his mother._

“_Hi Ander,” She says, sounding not all pleased to see him on the phone. “How are you doing?”_

“_He can’t sleep,” Omar says before Ander has a chance to greet Omar’s mom. “He says it’s because I’ve left him.”_

_She rolls her eyes visibly enough that Ander can catch it, even with the shitty video quality. “He’s being a baby.” She says it not unkindly. She sounds more exasperated than mean, like she’s dealing with an actual child, but a child she’s fond of. Ander glances away from the screen. “He can handle a week. He can definitely handle you hanging up right now and going to be with your family.” Yeah that one is definitely aimed at Ander, she looks right at him as she says it._

_Ander opens his mouth to agree, mainly because he’s still not sure how much Omar’s parents like him, also because he knows that Omar’s mother is definitely right in this instance. Ander will see Omar next week, and he will get to see Omar every day after that. Omar’s extended family do not have that luxury._

_However, before Ander can say anything, Omar speaks. “Mother, I said I’ll be _right there._ Let me talk to my spouse for at least five minutes, please.”_

_Omar’s mom says something in Arabic, shaking her head. Omar answers, also in Arabic, sounding fed up. Omar’s mom closes her eyes, sighs and then, “Bye, Ander,” she says as she stands up and leaves the room._

_Omar is shaking his own head in disbelief as he watches her exit. “Not ten minutes to myself, damn,” he says, almost a whisper, more of a thought than a statement made to Ander. “Sorry.”_

“_No, don’t apologize,” Ander says. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to get the next words out. “I mean I hate it but she’s probably right. You haven’t seen your family in a really long time and as much as I would like to keep you on the phone for hours...” he stops again, his entire mind screaming against the words about to leave his mouth. “You should probably spend the time with your family.”_

“_Yes,” Omar responds. “You’re right, I haven’t seen them in years, and I should be spending time with them. But I haven’t seen _you_ in over twenty-four hours and believe me when I say, it’s been really taxing.”_

_Ander smiles at that, in spite of himself and his recent selfless admission. “Good. Tell me how much you miss me.”_

_Omar laughs at him. “Well, I actually slept pretty well last night.”_

“_Fuck you, I guess,” Ander responds. “I’m the only one suffering here.”_

_Omar’s eyes soften momentarily, but again, as he’s about to respond, the door opens._

“_Omar,” comes Nadia’s voice. “Stop leaving me alone to deal with grandma.”_

_Ander watches Omar’s eyes go from soft to annoyed through the crappy connection. “I am _on the phone._ Did mom send you?_”

“_Yep.” This time the door closes much more quickly and Nadia pushes Omar to the side so that she can sit next to him. “Hi, Ander.”_

_Ander nods a hello to her. “How is Turkey?”_

_Nadia thinks about this for a moment. “Full of mosques. How is Spain?”_

_Ander smiles. “Missing my favorite people.”_

_Nadia snorts at him in response. “Favorite person more like,” she says, nudging Omar’s shoulder. “He misses you too.”_

_Omar straight up shoves Nadia’s shoulder with his one free hand. “Hey, I can talk about my own feelings, I don’t need you.”_

“_I know you can,” Nadia says. “But also, I need you to speed this up, because I think grandma just saw my wedding ring and I don’t have a lie to give her about it.”_

_Omar shakes his head. “Just tell her it’s your wedding ring, oh my god. She’s eighty!”_

“_She’s not stupid!” Nadia responds. “You go tell her about your wedding ring!”_

_Ander watches them bicker, smiling. He doesn’t mind the fact that Omar’s not talking to him at this moment. He likes seeing Omar bicker with Nadia because it’s such a normal, everyday thing. If Ander closes his eyes, he can pretend like Nadia and Omar are sitting in the other room. _

_Then there’s the sound of the door opening _again_._

“_Omar, get off the phone, Nadia stop hiding with your brother.” This time it’s Omar and Nadia’s father. His tone is brisk, admitting no argument and when Omar opens his mouth to respond, his father beats him to it. “Say goodbye to whatever white boy you’re talking to and come help with tea.”_

“_Ok _baba,”_ Nadia and Omar say simultaneously, neither looking thrilled, though both looking resigned. Nadia stands up, waves goodbye to Ander, and is gone in a moment. After she’s left Omar sighs._

“_I have to go,” he says. “I’ll call you when I’m free again, alright?”_

“_Ok,” Ander responds. “Have fun with grandma.”_

_Omar smiles. “Love you.”_

_Ander drops his gaze for a moment, smiling in spite of himself. It’s weird, no matter how many times he hears those words, they make his heart leap. “Love you more,” he says, opening his eyes._

“_Yeah, right.” _

_Omar hangs up._

_\--_

Ander is still leaning back on his chair at the airport, eyes closed, head resting against the wall, trying really hard not to count the seconds in his head, when someone kicks his foot lightly.

He opens his eyes to see Guzman standing over him.

“How long have you been here?” Guzman asks him, sitting down.

“What time is it?”

“It is eight-thirty,” Guzman responds.

“Half an hour.”

Guzman whistles. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Ander shrugs. “I didn’t want to stay at home. It was suffocating me, all the waiting.”

“Separation anxiety?” Guzman is definitely teasing. He is marginally aware of how difficult this week has been for Ander.

Ander bumps his shoulder into Guzman. “Whatever, it’s not like you fared any better.”

Actually, Ander has no idea how Guzman fared, but he thinks this week was probably just as bad for him as it was for Ander.

“I,” Guzman says, sitting up straight and squaring his shoulders. “Have been on business trips where I’ve had to stay overnight many times. This was no issue for me.”

“Yeah, ok,” Ander says, resting his head on the wall and regarding Guzman with narrowed eyes. “You’ve had no problems this whole week.”

“None.”

“I definitely don’t believe you,” Ander responds. “You’re telling me you went a whole week without seeing your spouse, and you didn’t miss her?”

Guzman shakes his head. “I never said I didn’t miss her. I said I was still a functioning part of society,” he looks Ander up and down meaningfully. “Unlike some people. I was talking with your mother.”

Ander flips him off.

Guzman throws one arm around Ander’s shoulder and pulls him close, smiling good naturedly. “I’m just messing with you, of course I had a hell week.”

“Yep,” Ander says, making himself comfortable by leaning against Guzman’s shoulder.

“Hey, man.” Guzman taps Ander’s chest with the back of his hand. “Cheer up, they’ll be here in less than an hour.”

_Less than an hour_. Ander can do that. Now that Guzman is here, the time left until the plane’s arrival will pass quickly, Ander thinks.

It doesn’t though.

Even with Guzman chatting and keeping Ander busy, it feels like hours have passed before Ander’s phone buzzes with a text from Omar.

“_We’ve landed.”_

Ander stands up. He does it so suddenly that he jostles Guzman, against whom he’d been leaning. Guzman reaches up and pulls him back down with an arm.

“It will take them at least ten minutes to get off the plane, go through security, and get out of that gate,” he points toward the exit gate. “Sit down, idiot.”

Ander doesn’t. He keeps standing, one foot tapping, heart beating quickly, eyes glued to the gate.

It’s only because he’s watching the gate that after what feels like an eternity, Ander catches a glimpse of Omar’s face. It’s a surreal experience, the second Ander sees him, everything goes quiet and Ander’s vision focuses on him.

At that moment, Ander’s mind is filled with confusion and he’s unsure of what to do.

He feels an emotion that he can’t identify, although he _knows_, in the part of his brain that is still chugging along, that the emotion must be happiness. But what Ander feels in his muscles, the little buzzing traveling through his body could easily be anticipation. Trepidation. Tension.

His body is like a strung arrow, about to be released at any moment. He wants to, no, he needs to run. His body is itching to run towards Omar and wrap his arms around him. He wants to hold Omar as tightly as he can, bury his face against Omar’s shoulder, feel the warmth of it.

_Run, run, go now._ His body is begging, his mind is screaming. The tension is about to break. Ander takes a small step forward, a start, and then he hears Guzman gasp next to him.

With that gasp, foreign, an intrusion, the rest of the airport floods into Ander’s awareness, the people, the sounds. Guzman stands too, eyes glued at the gate, and fuck him for pretending like this separation was having less of an effect on him than it was having on Ander.

But now that Ander is aware of all the people around him, he’s less willing to run up and throw his arms around Omar. It feels like all these people would be intruding on a moment that belongs to _them_. He doesn’t want them around, doesn’t feel comfortable showing his vulnerabilities in front of so many strangers.

Ander doesn’t know what to do anymore. He’s glued to the spot, watching Omar’s advance.

And then Omar looks around, eyes roaming his surroundings until they land on Ander and stay. There’s a beat, and then Omar smiles, a smile that grows, until it is too big for his face. He taps Nadia, who had not yet noticed Ander and Guzman standing several feet away, on the shoulder.

Then they’re both walking over, and Ander’s struggling to breath. He still can’t figure out what to do, still can’t move, his mind has gone blank. His body is no longer under his own control, and he watches Omar approach, feeling his heart beating louder with every step Omar takes, until Omar reaches him and throws both arms around Ander’s neck.

“Hey,” Omar says into the space where Ander’s neck meets his shoulder.

“Hey.” Ander’s arms come up automatically to hold him, wrapping themselves around Omar’s waist.

There is nothing else Ander can do.

How long has it been? Just a week. No, it couldn’t have been a week. It felt like three weeks. It felt like five. Omar’s been gone for way too long, Ander had forgotten what it felt like to hold him like this, to feel Omar’s chest against his own.

_Too long. Too long. Way too long._

Ander’s grip on Omar tightens. “Hey,” he repeats, closing his eyes, digging his nose into Omar’s neck.

Omar pulls back after a second, too early, and holds Ander’s face. He doesn’t say anything, just smiles. Ander wants to push into his space, to close the distance, kiss him. But before he has the chance, Omar’s parents join them.

“Children,” Omar’s father says, watching his kids and their spouses. “We have to get our bags.”

\--

“_It’s possible,” Omar is whispering on the phone, his face only visible thanks to the screen’s backlight. “That keeping my wedding ring on was a mistake.”_

_Omar has to whisper, because he’s on the balcony of his uncle’s house at midnight, and everyone else is sleeping. He told Ander when he called that he would have called earlier, but he knew that if he did someone would try to listen in on their conversation. It’s day four of Omar’s stay in Kayseri, and one of his cousins finally got up the courage to ask him about the ring on his ring finger. _

“_I mean,” Omar continues. “I said it was a wedding ring, and then he asked oh where’s your wife, and I opened my mouth to say I don’t have one, but it’s like my dad is telepathic. He literally cut me off before I could get any words out.”_

_Ander is in bed too, even though he’s a few hours behind. He’s stretched out under the blanket, three pillows holding his head up, and he’s watching Omar. He’s not too worried about the story Omar is telling. Clearly nothing bad happened, or else Omar wouldn’t be recounting the story calmly to Ander. Ander can lay back and watch him as he tells his story, enjoying the soft sound of his voice._

“_He was ready to shut the conversation down,” Omar continues. _

“_So what happened?” _

_Omar closes his eyes, shaking his head. He’s leaning against the railing of the balcony, so his head catches on the poles as he shakes it. “Nothing, the conversation changed and then my cousin forgot about it I guess? But then, get this, another cousin asked me who I keep calling on the phone.”_

“_Crazy.”_

“_I know,” Omar agrees. “I asked why she thought I was on the phone all the time, and she just looked at me like ‘_don’t take me for an idiot.’ _Anyways, before she could press it one of her children began pulling on her hair so she had to deal with that and I escaped.”_

_Ander chuckles. “Would you have told them? About me?”_

_Omar is quiet for a while, looking away from the phone, biting his lip. “I don’t know. I would love to, obviously, but my parents are right… it’s a bit dangerous here.”_

_Ander nods. “It is…” The idea of something happening to Omar in a foreign country makes him shudder. _

“_So maybe not…” Omar continues. “Definitely not to my cousins. I barely know them.”_

“_Who knows how they would react,” Ander continues. _

_Omar sighs, a deep, resigned sigh. “I know, and that’s really the issue. They could be completely cool with it, you know? Or they could not. It’s just not worth it.”_

_Ander agrees. They sit in silence, watching each other. And then, “How was your day?”_

_Shrugging, Ander says. “Had brunch with my mom and her husband. They asked how you were.”_

“_That’s sweet of them,” Omar says._

“_Yeah, my mom misses you very much.”_

_This makes Omar laugh. “Your mom?”_

_Ander nods. “Just my mom.”_

_Omar laughs again. “Asshole.” _

“_Yeah, well,” Ander responds. “I’m not the one who traveled to another fucking country.”_

_Omar’s head is moving up and down slowly, not necessarily in a nod, but a hesitant agreement. “Three more days.”_

“_Three more days,” Ander repeats, closing his eyes. “It’s too long.”_

“_You’ll survive, darling,” Omar says, using a term of endearment he knows will make Ander smile. “And then I’ll be home.”_

_\--_

The drive back to their place is pure torture.

Ander would have liked to stop by the side of the road and kiss Omar as soon as they reached a gas station or a church, but he’s not a teenager anymore, and he knows that getting home and kissing Omar then is a much better idea than stopping somewhere along the way. However, the twenty minute drive from the airport to their house feels stretched out on purpose by some vengeful god. It almost drives Ander crazy.

They get home though, they do, and as soon as they enter the foyer and the Omar closes the door behind them, Ander turns around, wraps his hands behind Omar’s head and pulls him in for a kiss.

It’s been over a week since they last kissed, and when his lips finally meet Omar’s, Ander feels like he can breathe again. It’s a silly feeling, because he wants to kiss Omar until they both run out of breath.

He feels Omar’s fingers in his hair, and a smile against his lips, and has to pull apart to tell Omar to stop smiling and kiss him properly.

But when he pulls away, Ander finds that he can’t stop looking at Omar. His gaze fixates on different parts of Omar’s face. His lips, open in a smile. His eyes, almost closed with the same smile. The stubble that’s growing on his cheek, probably because he hasn’t shaved all day. Everything about him._ Everything_. Ander missed him so much.

“You’re back,” the words are barely a whisper. They’re full of wonder.

“Yeah.” Ander watches as Omar closes his eyes, his lashes coming down to barely brush against his skin. Ander closes his eyes too, and feels the tip of Omar’s nose brushing against his.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “You’re back,” and he pushes his face forward so he can kiss Omar again.

Ander tries to put the feelings he’s had, desperation he felt, every night that he lay awake in bed, unable to fall asleep because Omar wasn’t there, into this second kiss. Ander knows that it was only a week. He knows. He gets it. A week isn’t that long.

But it felt _so long to him._

Omar kisses back with just as much desperation. His hands grab at Ander’s shirt, fingers digging into Ander’s back, before moving upward to bury themselves into Ander’s hair.

Ander pushes Omar against the door, covers Omar’s body with his own, making sure that they’re touching everywhere, chest to chest, hip to hip. He needs to be as close to Omar as possible, needs to surround himself with Omar’s presence. He grabs Omar’s waist, one hand moving down past his thigh to hoist up one of Omar’s legs, trying to get even closer.

They stand there, kissing, until Omar draws his lips away, taking a deep breath. Ander takes the opportunity to kiss his cheek, the point of his jaw, his neck.

“I missed you,” he says into Omar’s neck. “So much.”

“I missed you,” Omar responds, grabbing Ander’s head and forcing it back up so he can rest his forehead against Ander’s.

“Don’t leave again,” Ander says, moving in to kiss Omar’s lip softly. “Not even for a week.”

Omar laughs, a small, breathy laugh. “Yeah, fuck family vacations.”

“Correct.” Ander tilts his head forward, gently brushing his lips against Omar’s. “I’m more important.”

Omar smiles against Ander’s lips. “You’re most important.”

Ander smiles, kissing the corner of Omar’s mouth gently. When he moves his lips so that he can kiss Omar on the mouth though, Omar turns his head.

Ander pulls back, confused.

“It’s almost eleven,” Omar says, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the door. “I’ve been travelling all day.”

Ander gets it, he doesn’t like it, but he gets it. Omar needs to rest. “Let’s get you to bed.”

When they get to bed, Ander wraps himself around Omar like and octopus, and for the first time in exactly over a week, he sleeps peacefully.

**Author's Note:**

> another tumblr prompt that turned way longer than I intended it to be. Also it appears I am unable to write fluff, just pining. So much pining.
> 
> Come yell at me about Elite on [tumblr](http://waroftheposes.tumblr.com).


End file.
